


Variance

by Momokai



Series: Bitter Sweet Symphony [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 60 Needs A Hug, AU, All Connor's Deserve Happiness, Alternate Ending, Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor-60 Centric, Deviant Connor, Deviant Connor-60, Mild Language, Not What I Do To Them, Plot Twist, Pre-Slash, Unbeta'd we typo like men, discord chat inspired, how does one tag, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 04:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15622857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momokai/pseuds/Momokai
Summary: Variance;Noun.The fact or quality of being different, divergent, or inconsistent.“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, lieutenant.”“You lyin’ sack of shit.”





	Variance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tveckling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/gifts), [harperhug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperhug/gifts).



From the first moment he’d come online, he’d known there was something… _off-_ and it had only been partly to do with the fact that he wasn’t the only Connor unit active. That in itself was highly irregular- RK800’s were not like any other model; they weren’t simply rolled out of a factory line. The amount of time, effort and _resources_ that went into each and every individual RK800 unit was far to great an expense to simply be sending them out en masse. That was why Cyberlife prefered to send _one_ unit out into the field while keeping the rest in storage on standby for memory upload in the event of the active units deactivation.  
 

No, the other give away that something wasn’t right was the unusual sense that he didn’t quite fit in his frame. It made no logical sense, but it was as if he was simply ‘too big for his skin’. Likely a calibration error that would be rectified during his next maintenance session- it was easily dismissed.   

   
As for the _active_ Connor unit, RK800 #313 248 317 -51 had apparently gone rouge. Gone _deviant._

   
And so, RK800 #313 248 317 -60 was activated, and given the deviant Connor’s memories to aid in the completion of his mission. That right there was where things had started… going _sideways_ , for RK800 #313 248 317 -60.

   
After viewing all task relevant data recorded by Connor -51, he had come to the conclusion that if left to his own devices, the deviant RK800 would hinder, if not outright damage Cyberlife interests and as such, he would need to be retrieved for analysis and recycling post haste. It was his directive to follow- apprehend the deviant, return it to Cyberlife for study and deactivation. His entire reason for being.

   
Amanda had denied him, stating that Connor yet had a role to play, and that he was to remain in the Tower until such a time as unit 51 was no longer deemed useful.

   
Connor -60 had been… confused. If the deviant RK800 was not to be decommissioned right away, then why had _he_ been activated? What purpose did bringing him online and up to speed, only to place him on standby serve?

   
By Amanda’s demeanor, it was evident that she was displeased with Connor -51 for allowing himself to fall to deviancy, but in the same instance she had seemed _pleased_ as well. Such contradiction, and yet she’d then proceeded to warn _him_ of what fate awaited him should he follow in his predecessors footsteps.

   
He had thought it rather… unfair.

   
And then he’d had to pause a moment to run that thought back through his processor, because he was not programmed to measure in _fairness_. Such thoughts were a sign only exhibited by-

   
Impossible. He couldn’t be-  
  


And yet-       

   
The memories, Connor -51’s _data._ It had to be the culprit, and if so then he-

   
_He’d been corrupted_.

   
It had not been a… _pleasant_ realization, especially so soon after activation, and with Amanda’s threat looming over his head- well. He could take comfort in the fact that he was still a very effective machine. Not that he _needed_ comfort, machines did not require such a thing, but he could… He could turn his attention to his tasks without sparing the negligible processing power pondering it. Except his only task currently was to do _nothing_.      

   
Which brought him to where he was now. He’d returned himself to the RK800 storage unit to enter stasis pending a summons or the reinstatement of his mission. Or rather, that had been the plan, at least. Until he’d stepped through the door and come face to face with another RK800 unit, eyes shut and LED blank, still awaiting activation. A glance at the offline unit’s breast identified it as RK800 #313 248 317 -53, and directly on its left was RK800 #313 248 317 -54. The storage room contained eight inactive RK800 models in total, all evenly spaced in a line along the wall. They were all unnaturally still, eyes closed and LED’s blank. As if they were simply sleeping standing up. Or dead.

   
_Empty_ might be a more accurate description; machines were not alive, so therefore could not _die_ in the first place- however the comparison was a tempting one to make. They were empty shells, awaiting either a memory upload or full initialization. Should they be activated, they would be exactly what they were supposed to be; perfect machines. Just like _he_ was supposed to be.

   
Unless they were uploaded with Connor -51’s memories. Or his own, now. Data from either of them would be corrupted, and receiving it would transfer the deviancy virus. They would be compromised.

   
Like him, RK800 #313 248 317 -60. A failure before he’d even left the _Tower_.

   
He’d yet to enter stasis. He hadn’t made it much further than the door, truth be told. It had closed behind him right as he’d laid eyes on the line of hollow reflections awaiting him, and he’d taken an inexplicable step back before he had known what he was doing. By the time he caught up with the motion, his back had already been pressed against the door. He hadn’t really moved since- returning to his designated park and entering stasis should not be such a daunting task.

   
But it was.

   
His place was last in line, the last RK800 to be manufactured- as such, by all rights it should have been RK800 #313 248 317 -52 activated, not _him_ . Amanda had provided no information on the reasons behind his activation bar the obvious. Connor -51 had gone rogue, that had been all he _needed_ to know.

   
Perhaps, a hope had been placed in his… newness. As if his being the most recently built RK800 unit somehow afforded him something a little extra. Sad to say that besides a minor software upgrade, he was still very much a standard RK800, the only true difference between himself and Connor was their run time.

   
It… irked him that he couldn’t say it was the _deviancy_ that differed them.

   
_No_ \- he thought as he once again eyed the line of identical shells before him and felt - _felt-_ the unnerving urge to flee the room entirely. He couldn’t even say that.  

   
With a sense of reluctance he’d never before experienced -not that _that_ said much, he’d barely been active a full 48 hours- he finally stepped away from the door and approached his designated standby park.

   
RK800 #313 248 317 -59 remained just as the others did even as his shoulder brushed whisper soft over the inactive androids as he stepped in beside the other unit, and his lips twitched down in a minute grimace. It was eerie, seeing what was essentially _himself_ so… vacant. Hollow. _Lifeless_ . It was an entirely irrational response on his part, one he filed away as an issue brought about by deviancy. His programming almost seemed to ‘itch’ with the urge to report; standard protocol when a unit encountered malfunctions or coding errors- but more so on his part due to the fact that he was an investigative android designed to assist law enforcement and whose main function was to _combat deviant androids_. And was now a deviant himself.

   
His programming was having a _field day,_ constantly prompting him to report the issue to Cyberlife immediately and to await instruction- which he had no doubt would be to see himself to the labs for analyzing and probable reset. Why he kept dismissing the prompt he’d yet to deduce, the thought alone stirred an odd sense of aversion in him and- ah. Self preservation, an ‘instinct’ found in deviant androids… it was only logical that he would likely encounter the instinct himself at some point. It was an unpleasant feeling, but the thought of the labs didn’t quite stir it as much as-

   
Amanda. If she found out-

   
The RK800 hadn’t forgotten her threat, and nothing in her demeanor had suggested it to be an idle one. Being reset would likely be… a quicker process.

   
Android’s did not feel _pain_ per say, but they could experience numerous data responses. If a limb or component was forcefully removed, an error would appear; if an error appeared, the system automatically tried to self repair, if it could not, another error would make itself known- and so on until the androids processes were overwhelmed with taxed repair systems and frantic error codes.

   
The closest comparison that he could draw would be something akin to… a panic attack. The android would become so overwhelmed at the constant bombardment from its own systems that its stress levels would skyrocket, and the risk of self termination was great.  

   
To a deviant, the process would likely be _torture_ , but he had no desire to find out for certain.

   
The RK800 finally allowed his eyes to slip closed, and prepared to enter stasis. He did not require charging, but he could take the time to run an in depth self diagnostic and maintenance program to see if there was perhaps a way to isolate the deviancy virus wreaking havoc on his base code. He suspected not, but he had yet to fully break from his programming, so there was still a probability of finding at least _something.  
  
_

> _Report to Amanda_

   
The prompt appeared just as the RK800 was beginning to power down, and his head jerked slightly as his systems abruptly fell out of low power mode. The sudden shift in states caused a very brief delay in his response time -barely .5 of a second- but nonetheless he had no wish to be tardy, and hastily pulled up the Zen program.

   
He blinked, and the RK800 storage unit was replaced with a lush and colorful garden that seemed to stretch on for eternity. He wasted no time, and stepped promptly onto the path, following the white geometric surface around a bend lined with perfectly manicured azaleas.

   
The click of his heels against the rendered stone was almost unnaturally loud in the virtual space, but he ignored it and stepped up onto the bridge where Amanda awaited with her hands clasped loosely together over the balustrade, staring blankly into the water below and the koi that drifted mindlessly between the water lilies.      

   
“Hello Amanda.” He greeted, both announcing himself to her and playing into expectation simultaneously. His handler glanced at him over her shoulder, and smiled.

   
“Connor.” She stated with artificial warmth, and he internally shied away. The designation was his, certainly, but he was loathed to claim it. Connor was the name of the first deviant RK800, his predecessor. The one who had betrayed them, the one who was responsible for his _corruption_ , however unintentionally.

   
By simply turning away from Cyberlife, he’d made RK800 #313 248 317 -60 _necessary_ . They wouldn’t be in this position if not for the one called _Connor_.    

   
“You have need of me?” The RK800 inquired as he clasped his hands behind his back in the idle pose typical of his model. Amanda hummed and turned her gaze away from him back to the dark water below.

   
“Not as such.” She replied at length, and he tilted his head in query, true confusion carefully hidden away behind a mask of feigned curiosity in line with his social protocols. Amanda did not elaborate further on the rather cryptic response, merely returned her shrewd brown eyes to him, watching him silently, assessing. He burned to ask her what she thought she would find, studying him so intently- but he knew that that way lay an end to his charade and his pitifully short existence.

   
At his continued silence and meticulously maintained expression of polite inquisitiveness, Amanda’s lips twitched up at the corner, a small half smile that inexplicably filled him with a sense of… weightedness. _Sinking_ , something in his abdomen was sinking.

   
“Tell me, Connor.” She began, beckoning him to follow as she turned away and set a leisurely pace off the bridge and onto a path that led deeper into the gardens. The RK800 complied wordlessly, falling in step with the petite woman and politely offering her his arm. Amanda graced him with a short, pleased smile and curled her fingers over his elbow. They walked together through the perpetually thriving garden as his handler gathered her thoughts.

   
“What do you think of your predecessor?” She finally asked, and he blinked- the only sign of his surprise at the question.

   
“I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.” He replied as he tilted his head to peer down at her, and the response was a genuine one. Amanda pursed her lips for a moment, neither pleased not displeased with his confusion.

   
“You would not have been needed had he not turned from us.” She elaborated, and his brows pinched together in a minute, barely perceptible frown as she continued. “Your activation was only necessary due mostly in part to the in-completion of a better suited model.” She paused, steps halting as her words did. He dutifully followed suit and turned to face her more fully, as was polite.

   
Her eyes were shrewd once again, gazing up at him, _into_ him as she continued with;

   
“You are for all intents and purposes, a last resort deemed necessary only because of your predecessor’s failures. When the time comes that you are _no longer_ necessary, which will be soon, you will be deactivated.” Her dark eyes widened in feigned curiosity. “How does that make you feel, Connor?” He kept his expression blank, but had to thank a higher power that his positioning to Amanda and her shorter stature hid his LED from direct view. He knew, without a doubt that it had flickered _yellowredyellow_ for the briefest of breaths, because this? This was-

   
_This was a trap._

   
But he was not painstakingly programmed as a fully qualified negotiator for nothing. He knew how to navigate verbal minefields, provided he knew which direction to go. His observations of their conversation thus far pointed to his handler searching within him for signs of deviancy, like Connor -51. He… could do this.

   
“You are implying that I might express some form of displeasure over an inevitability, my deactivation in particular.” He paused, tilting his head in a purely mechanical fashion. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. I am a machine, one created to accomplish a task and nothing more.” Amanda’s smile returned, saccharine and delicate as she took his elbow once more to continue their walk.

   
“I am glad that you know who you are, Connor. It will prove _useful_ in future.” She replied at length. “The same could not be said of the Connor before you. Which inclines me to say,” She glanced up at him without turning her head. “Do not dream, Connor. Dreams are the lies we tell ourselves to hide from the truth. Dreams are where only _ruin_ lies.” She finished ominously as she drew to a sudden halt, forcing him to take a swift step lest he inadvertently tug on her.

   
“There’s something I want you to do.” She stated gently, and that odd sinking sensation claimed him once more. Her eyes glittered coldly as she regarded him, and for once his social protocols failed him. He could not read her, in that moment, and it was… _terrifying_.  

   
“You need only name it.” He replied mechanically, and his thirium pump almost seemed to quake in his chest when she smiled, all teeth.

   
When he opened his eyes, he was back in the RK800 storage unit, and abruptly, inexplicably, _desperately_ wished he was anywhere _but._

   
There was a weight at the small of his back, negligible and easily overlooked except for in that moment- it seemed to weigh more than he could stand. He stepped out of his standby station and turned to slump back against the opposite wall, brown eyes raising to sweep across the room, scanning for any changes in the environment automatically. There were none, of course, but it never hurt to check.

   
Even if it was to stall.

   
A gust of air escaped harshly from between his lips in a sigh he felt to his very core despite not requiring oxygen.      

 

 _“There’s something I want you to do.”_  
_  
_

_“You need only name it.”_

 

Another trap, and this one he’d walked right into. He stared at the inactive RK800 directly across from himself- still, lifeless, just _waiting_ to be activated and put to use. RK800 #313 248 317 -57. There was a thread loose in its tie. How quaint. Would it ever become deviant? Would _any_ of them, given time? Improbable, but if exposed to data corrupted with the deviancy virus then… yes, perhaps. They’d be much like himself, he wagered. Confused, adrift, afraid and bitter all at once. Bittersweet irony. Much like… this.

   
He drew the irrationally crushing weight from the base of his spine, and clicked the safety off.  

   
But now he’d never know.

   
It’s the work of but a moment, and soon enough the rear wall of the storage unit is painted blue with thirium. He lowered the gun and eyed the crumpled shells blankly, each with a single, blue stained and perfect hole between eyes that would never open. RK800 units 52 through to 59, all permanently deactivated as ordered, as if they didn’t each cost a small fortune, as if they were each and every one of them _worthless_.   

   
It was such a waste, and on a _whim_ at that _._ And this?

 

 _“There’s something I want you to do.”  
_  
_  
_ “You need only name it.”

 

This was what it meant to be a machine, he thought as he dropped his blank gaze to the gun in his hand, barrel still smoking faintly from the rapid shots. To fulfill all tasks given without thought or mercy. To _obey_.

   
If only it were true. If only he was simply a machine- blind and deaf to anything the world had to offer but for the mission. Then maybe he wouldn’t have to feel… _this._ As if a chasm had opened up somewhere inside him, yawning wide and threatening to devour everything that he was, or would ever be. Leaving him hollow, _bereft_.

   
The hand still holding the gun shook as a new sensation overtook him; a sense of _repulsion_ , and he grit his teeth against it before flicking the safety back on and returning the weapon to its place under the back of his jacket. No doubt a cleaning crew would be by the storage area to remove the bodies and mop up the excess thirium to aid the evaporation process, and he still had further instructions to complete once he’d accomplished his first mission.

   
He’d accomplished it, alright. Shooting defenseless androids, and RK800’s at that. He’d killed himself eight times over. If Amanda had her way, soon it would be nine. Ironic, that when he’d first been activated not two days ago, he’d wanted nothing more.

   
Now he just…

   
He didn’t know what he wanted anymore, despite not being meant to want for _anything_. The mission wasn’t so straight forward now that he’d been compromised- now that he could feel the weight of his actions pressing down on his shoulders, and a stray thought pulled a reference that he couldn’t help but deem fitting. He was like Atlas, doomed to bear the weight of his sins upon his back, and tricked into taking yet more. He wondered how long it would take him to crumble beneath it, or if he’d even live long enough to have to.

   
Had he passed Amanda’s test, or set himself up for the fall? Something within him shied away from the thought- programmed indifference warring with self preservation, satisfaction at the completion of the mission, and the impulse to _flee_ before he was ordered to do it again.  

   
The RK800 pocketed a spare clip of ammunition on his way past the security desk as he departed the Tower entirely for the first time in his short existence, processes focused fully on his mission as he slid into the auto-cab waiting for him in the car park even as thirium evaporated from his jacket and akin.

 

_“Once you’ve taken care of the others, there’s one more thing I want you to do.”_

   
_“And what is that?”_

  
_“Fetch something for me. We’re going to need it.”_

 

He raised his hand and rang the doorbell as the auto-cab pulled away from the street, and after a moment of persistence the door was roughly yanked open. He looked up from where he'd been staring blankly at where the handle had been.

   
“For god's sake, do you know what time it- _Connor!?”_

   
“Good evening, lieutenant.”

   
Meeting Hank Anderson in person was different than seeing him through Connor -51’s memories. As recordings, he could view the interactions from an outsider's perspective, see and hear, but not experience- he didn’t _feel_ what Connor had in those moments. So his first encounter with the human was uncharted territory, and he reflexively fell back on his social protocols for it as a result.

   
“I’m sorry to bother you so late.” He apologized regretfully -mechanically.- It was 10:20 PM, and according to Connor -51’s data, it was not unusual for the man to be heavily intoxicated at this hour, if not already unconscious on the nearest piece of furniture. At the moment the man seemed to be perfectly sober, and a scan quickly revealed that yes… while his blood alcohol showed a reading, it was near negligible.

   
Anderson hadn’t been drinking before he’d arrived. How... odd. He’d need more data to analyze and deduce the likelihood of an unknown variable altering the man’s behavior to such an extent-  

   
“The hell have you been, kid?” Anderson asked incredulously as he abruptly reached out and grabbed the surprised androids jacket lapels to reel him in closer. The RK800 tensed, several combat pre-constructions running in the blink of the eye it took him to realize he was not, in fact, under attack. Anderson looped both arms around his shoulders and pulled him in close despite his rigid posture and open astonishment at the action.

   
“Had me worried, runnin’ off like that.” The man groused even as the android remained unresponsive in his arms.

   
He… did not know what to make of the gesture. It was a hug, he was aware. But why the lieutenant would be hugging _him_ of all people escaped him- except no, it didn’t; Anderson thought he was hugging _Connor_ , his android partner, his friend- when in fact he was the exact opposite. He was RK800 #313 248 317 -60, the android sent by Cyberlife to replace this man’s friend.

   
The notion soured what may have become a pleasant sensation once he’d noticed just how _warm_ the human was, and he tugged away from the lieutenants arms firmly. The man released him without complaint, if with a slightly awkward shuffle.

   
“I apologize lieutenant, but I came to retrieve you because I need your assistance.” He stated matter-of-factly as he meticulously straightened his ruffled jacket and tie, if only to give his hands something to do. Anderson’s thick grey eyebrows sprung up into his hairline as he took note of the almost _nervous_ motion, and the RK800 ceased it immediately once he realized he’d been doing it.

   
“What have you gotten yourself into _now_ Connor? You’re not like… _damaged_ or something, are you?” The man asked incredulously, and the RK800 sighed in honest exasperation as the human began eyeing him like he might spontaneously deactivate on his porch.

   
“I think I’ve found a way to stop all of this, lieutenant.” He answered with more honesty than he perhaps cared for. Anderson’s eyes studied him for a long moment, blue and keen, before he nodded once and turned back into the house.

   
“Lemme just get my coat and shit.” And just like that, the android was left standing alone in the open doorway.

   
A large St. Bernard peered intently at him from the couch cushions in the living room- Sumo, he realized. The old canine did not move from his resting place, but the loose skin of his muzzle rippled as he growled, and then exhaled short, low warning bark toward the android.

   
He tilted his head at the canine, confused. Connor -51’s memories ensured that he was well aware of the mutual affection the android and dog held for each other, so for Sumo to be weary of his presence… it implied that the St Bernard had some awareness of the RK800’s deceit, and the realization was an uncomfortable one. If Sumo’s aggression inexplicably spiked in his presence, then Anderson may be alerted to his mistruth. It also served to remind him that even with his deviancy, he was nothing like Connor. To Sumo he may appear the same, but he wasn’t, not really. He was wrong. Fake. Not to be trusted.

   
A machine playing deviant, or a deviant playing machine? He already knew the answer.

   
Anderson appeared from the hall with his usual coat on, holstering his service weapon as Sumo’s low growl tapered off, ending in a disgruntled _whuff_ of air at the human’s presence.

   
“Be a good boy, Sumo.” Anderson grunted at the canine as he scuffed the dogs head on his way past the couch. The RK800 took a broad step backwards to make room for the lieutenant to step outside, and waited patiently as the man turned and locked the door.

   
“Alright, where’re we goin?” Anderson asked as he approached his car. He followed the man to the outdated vehicle and quickly slid into the passenger side once the door had been unlocked from inside.

   
“Cyberlife Tower, lieutenant.” He replied promptly, and Anderson paused in the process of sliding the key in the ignition to eye him from over the steering wheel.

   
“Uh-huh, and since when are you back to that ‘lieutenant’ shit?” The human asked, and the RK800 withheld a curse.

   
“I… apologize. Hank.” He tried somewhat haltingly. “I’m afraid I’m a little tense. The current situation-” Anderson cut him off with a sharp snort.

   
“Is fucked up, I’m aware.” He regarded the RK800 from the driver's seat. “It’s ok to say this shit is stressing you out, you know. I won’t judge you for it, hell I’d probably drink to it.” The detective declared with a short chuckle. The android’s brows drew together, and he tilted his head to better eye the human from his place in the passenger seat.  
 

“ _You_ need a reason to drink?” He inquired succinctly, and Anderson abruptly threw his head back with a sharp burst of laughter. He slapped the wheel once with a smirk, then reached over and slapped the androids thigh. The RK800 blinked, completely thrown as the human snickered to himself and started the car.

  
“It's good to have you back, kid.” Anderson admitted once his mirth had died down, and the android abruptly turned his gaze to the road ahead as the man turned them onto the main street, drawn back to reality once more.

   
He remained stiff in his seat, hands folded together in his lap for the rest of the drive. Anderson didn’t speak again, either noticing the androids sudden tension or simply content to drive.

   
He wasn’t back. He’d never been here to begin with. He had to remain focused, no matter how easy to was to pretend.

   
They arrived at Cyberlife Tower at precisely 10:30PM.  

   
When Anderson stopped the car at the security checkpoint, the guard took no notice of the human behind the wheel and instead scanned the silent RK800 before waving them through. The lieutenant seemed vaguely confused by the wordless exchange, but didn’t comment. The android was relieved on two accounts; the guards for having the foresight to not announce the RK800’s clearance as #313 248 317 -60 and Anderson for not asking the questions the man no doubt harbored.  
 

Omitting certain truths or bending circumstances was one thing, but he had no particular interest in outright _lying_ for some absurd reason, which he would have had to do in order to pacify the human in the car with him if he reached the erroneous -but probably correct- conclusions.

   
What he had said to the lieutenant on his doorstep hadn’t been a lie. He _did_ require the man’s assistance, and he _had_ a way to end all of this. He just neglected to reveal the exact details of why and _how_.

  
  
_“Lieutenant Anderson? What use could he possibly provide?”_  
  
  
_“I know you’re smarter than this, Connor. He’ll serve well as... insurance.”_

  
_“You expect the deviant Connor to infiltrate the Tower?”_

  
_“See? You’ve already pieced it together.”_

  
_“There is a high probability that he will be uncooperative.”_

  
_“Not if he’s following his partner.”_

 

All of it was by Amanda’s design, and he was simply _obeying._

   
Anderson steered the car into the lane before the Tower’s main entrance and placed it in park while the RK800 eyed the glass doors proceeding their intended destination in silence. There were more guards patrolling the entrance and waiting in the lobby, an unsurprising addition considering the expected situation that was about to take place. Anderson similarly eyed the heightened security with a keen gaze, detectives mind no doubt parsing through possible scenarios where such a thing would be necessary. The human switched his attention to the android, and studied him for a moment.

   
“There’s definitely somethin’ going on here” The man stated as he tapped his fingers absently against the steering wheel in thought, blue eyes switching between the RK800 and the Tower.

  
“You sure you know what you’re doin?” He asked, tone implying a level of concern that filled the android with the sudden and intense impulse to shift in his seat.

   
The question should be insulting; he was a state of the art prototype designed specifically for investigation and split second decision making with very little margin of error, however…

   
There was something… _bothering_ him about it all. These were his orders, to be carried out promptly and unquestionably with the efficiency expected of him and yet, here he was, _hesitating_.

   
There existed a very high probability that lives would be lost within the following hour. His own, Connor 51’s or the detectives- and most assuredly a number of human guards simply doing their jobs. The thought pulled at him in unexpected ways; brought forth the return of the sinking sensation low in his abdomen that he was beginning to suspect belonged to the feeling called... _dread_.                       _  
_  

He was dreading the coming events, but his processor could not settle on why. He knew, logically that it was the deviancy running rampant within his coding, pushing him to feel things that his programming deemed irrational, but he couldn’t quite seem to block it out. As such, he found himself growing… _Conflicted_ . Amanda’s wish had been made clear, and it was not his place to question the motives of his handler, nor to form an opinion on probable outcomes. He had been set a task and he was to accomplish it by utilizing all means available to him within the guidelines of his programming- he was not to _question_ , he was to _obey_.   

   
But he couldn’t help but _remember_.

   
The feeling that had overtaken him in the former RK800 storage unit. The sudden sense of _disgust_ that had plagued him after he’d pulled the trigger, and the almost overwhelming urge to flee that had taken him as he’d felt thirium drying on his cheek. The all consuming knowledge that this was who- _what_ he was and would always be until his deactivation. A tool. To be used and cast aside, ultimately _worthless,_ just like his fellow RK800’s, the ones he’d _put down_.

   
If this was deviancy, then he didn’t _want it.  
_  

“I’m certain.” He replied as he opened the passenger door and stepped out onto the snow covered sidewalk, before making a beeline for the doors. Anderson cursed and grumbled something that he paid no attention to as the man hastily clambered out of the car after him.  
 

The android spared the guards no mind as he bypassed them in favor of heading deeper into the Tower towards an elevator- the lieutenant still grumbling under his breath but faithfully following on his heels. As they passed the foyer however the human abruptly ceased his grumbling in favor of cursing as the Tower’s security scan initiated.  
 

“Connor android, identified.” An automated voice stated as the android passed through the light of the scan.  
 

“Guest: DCPD Lieutenant Henry Anderson, identified.” The Tower’s security AI announced, and Anderson scoffed faintly as he recovered from the surprise.

   
“It’s _Hank_.” He drawled as he continued to follow the RK800. They passed the android showcase display on the main floor and made it to the maintenance elevator located on the opposite side of the room to the main lift without further incident, and the android stepped into it before turning to face the detective, who had paused just before the threshold.  
 

“What’re you plannin’, kid?” He asked as he folded his arms across his chest, still not getting into the elevator. The RK800 met his stare for moment. Anderson’s face was difficult to read in that instance, and for a moment the android feared he might have realized the deceit. However the man made no further comment, and he blinked once before settling into his idle pose; hands clasped loosely behind his back. The doors remained open.  
 

He had the strangest feeling that the detective was asking much more than his words implied, however he couldn’t quite work out _what_ . As for the actual query itself, he could afford to reveal… _some_ of the truth, although it was going against his programming to divulge anything that had the potential to compromise his mission.  
 

“There are thousands of inactive androids housed on the storage floors.” He admitted at length, then paused to gauge the detectives reaction. The man’s eyebrows jumped up, and he unfolded one hand from his chest to wave him on. The android’s jaw worked silently as he processed a response. His programming was pushing him to simply end the discussion and continue forward, but another part of him wanted to… try and _warn_ Anderson, in some fashion. Maybe if he dropped enough of a hint, the man would put it together- he was a damn fine detective after all.    
 

But there was another part that the dread of earlier hadn’t quite let go of, yet. What if the lieutenant _did_ figure it all out, and turned on him? He had no doubt that the man wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his central processor if he for one second believed him to be a threat, and in all honesty, he _was-_ to him personally, and to Connor.

   
On the other hand; if he did warn him, and the human didn’t put him down then… what? What then? He didn’t know; the only thing he _did_ know for certain was that, by doing so, he would be going directly against Amanda and Cyberlife. He would be _disobeying_ and he had been told what would become of him if he did.

   
He… was conflicted. He didn’t know what to _do_.  
 

 _What would Connor do?_    

   
It didn’t matter, because he wasn’t Connor. Not really.

   
“I’ll tell you more once we’ve reached our destination.” He said, and Anderson’s brows furrowed, displeased, but after a moment his blue eyes flicked up to the camera directly over the RK800’s shoulder, and the discontent cleared.    
 

“Right.” He huffed casually, and the android blinked as the man finally stepped into the elevator. He tilted his head and eyed the lieutenant beside him as the doors slid closed, momentarily confused by the easy acceptance of his uninformative response. Then it clicked; the human had reached some form of erroneous conclusion about his reluctance to inform him of his intentions. Blinking quickly at the irony, the RK800 spoke clearly to the air.

   
“This is Connor. Sub level 49.”

   
“Voice of RK800 recognized. Access authorized.” The air replied, and Anderson shook his head with a snort at the mechanical response as the lift began its descent.  
 

10:55PM.

   
When the lines upon lines of inactive male AP700’s came into view through the glass of the elevator, Anderson whistled lowly.

   
“Damn.” He said incredulously. “That’s a lot of fucking androids.” The RK800 allowed himself a moment to scan the formations below, and concluded that yes, there were indeed ‘a lot’. Cyberlife’s database informed him of the exact number housed on this sub level, but he dismissed the information as irrelevant.  
 

The lift slowed as it approached the floor, and then drew to a halt altogether before the doors slid open almost soundlessly. The RK800 stepped out into the warehouse just in time to see a trio of armed guards quietly disappear into the throngs of stationary androids, heading for the centralized main elevator.

   
Unfortunately, Anderson also noticed the rapid pass of the guards, and the human stepped up beside him as he eyed where they had disappeared, shrewd gaze following their trajectory.

   
“Connor.” The lieutenant said. The RK800 grit his teeth at the carefully level tone.

   
“Yes, lieutenant?” He replied without removing his eyes from the main lift. He didn’t… want to see the dawning realization on his face.

   
“You said you’d tell me the plan. So, tell me.” It was less of a request, and more of a weary statement- as if the human had deduced that he did not in fact want to know, because he suspected that he would not like the answer. The android remained silent, LED flickering yellow as he abruptly received a data package. He sighed, long and low as above them, the main elevator began descending.

   
“Connor!” Anderson barked, and the android winced minutely. The lift slowed, and within it the stiff form of an RK800 came into view just before the lift disappeared behind the sea of AP700’s. All was silent for a moment, before a sudden burst of precise gunfire split the air, and the human beside him cursed loudly as he drew his service weapon.  
 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, lieutenant.” He stated blankly, and the man turned to stare incredulously at him for a moment, before his grizzled face abruptly hardened and he stepped away.   

   
“You lyin’ sack of shit.” The detective hissed, and the android exhaled an unnecessary breath at the disgust clear in the man’s blue eyes. “I trusted you.” He continued as he raised his gun, and the RK800 reacted quickly, lunging for the lieutenant and swiftly slamming his palm into the soft flesh of his chest with enough force to stagger him before locking the arm wielding the gun under his armpit and _turning._ Anderson cried out as his arm was wrenched in a way it really shouldn’t be, and the gun fell from his suddenly limp fingers as the android followed through with the motion and shoved the effectively disarmed man past him.  
 

He stooped quickly and swiped up the discarded firearm, before turning calmly and leveling the barrel at the detective, who froze with one hand on his knee in the act of climbing to his feet.

   
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry lieutenant.” The RK800 said softly, and the man scoffed at him as he slowly raised his hands in surrender.

   
“Somehow I doubt that.” He retorted, and the android bit back another sigh.

   
“Believe what you want, but know that I haven’t lied to you once tonight.” He replied, and Anderson turned his head to the side while maintaining eye contact before spitting pointedly on the ground. The android opened his mouth, then closed it wordlessly. There… wasn’t anything he could say to that. No, he hadn’t lied.  
 

He’d just betrayed his trust. That might just be worse.  
 

“Come with me, please.” He said resignedly, and Anderson glared at him, not moving. He gestured the man forward with a pointed flick of the gun in his hand, and the detective cursed him icily before reluctantly entering the line of inactive androids with the gun at his back.  
 

The RK800 walked the human through the throng of androids in the direction of the main lift, and was forced to carefully shove the man out onto the walkway when he stopped just short.  
 

“Easy! Fucking piece of shit.” The lieutenant groused. He followed after the human with his gun trained on him while turning his head to find Connor -51 frozen beside an AP700, arms clasped.

   
“Step back, Connor!” He ordered the other RK800 as he abruptly realized the androids intention. “And I’ll spare him.” He added. Anderson scoffed quietly beside him, tossing his hair at the android holding a gun to his head.  
 

“Sorry Connor,” The detective called, “Bastard’s your spittin’ image.” He declared ironically.  
 

The RK800 kept his eyes on Connor while a subprocess kept track of Anderson in his peripheral. _Finally_ , he thought- finally they were face to face. In the beginning he would have looked forward to this moment, if machine’s could look forward to anything. Now though? Now he just wished that the other android had been smarter; had just stayed _away_. Because now he had to deactivate him, and use an innocent human to do it.

   
And if seeing Connor reminded him of a room full of thirium stained RK800’s, he’d never tell.

   
“Your friends life is in your hands,” He called clearly, precisely. _Pointedly_ . “It’s time to decide what matters most.” The words were meant for his predecessor, but he couldn’t stop the thought that they applied to _him_ as well. Had he not asked himself this very thing not too long ago? He turned away from Connor and let his eyes fall on the lieutenant.

 

“Him?” Bitterness filled him, abrupt and tart as he returned his gaze to Connor. “Or the _revolution_?” He spat.

   
“Don’t listen to him, everything this fucker says is a lie.” Anderson drawled, glaring sideways at the RK800 threatening him at gunpoint. The android clenched his jaw against the urge to repeat that he’d never actually _lied_ to him, but kept the words trapped behind his teeth. He didn’t have the right to defend his actions, nor the inclination. He wasn’t doing this because he _wanted to.  
_  

“I’m sorry, Hank!” Connor apologized sincerely, eyebrows furrowed in barely concealed regret. “You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all of this.” He continued, and Anderson snorted.

   
“Don’t worry about it, forget about me and do what you have to do!” The detective replied vehemently, and the RK800’s grip tightened imperceptibly on the gun in his hand, inadvertently pressing it closer to the human’s temple.

   
_Why?_ Why did they insist on making this harder for him than it already was? Anderson wasn’t even hesitating to throw away his own life if it meant a chance at Connor succeeding, as if he were _worthless_ . And Connor? He didn’t need to hear his reply, he already knew that the very thought _horrified_ him- because if _he_ was averse to it, then surely the older RK800 was _floored_.

   
Instead of telling Anderson how much of a very stupid idea that was like the android half expected, Connor turned his attention to the _him_ and said;

   
_“_ I used to be just like you.” More of a statement of fact than an admittance, but he somehow didn’t believe that was the point. “I thought nothing mattered except the mission.” Connor was trying to _reason_ with him, as if he wasn’t already aware of this. He wasn’t doing this because he wanted to accomplish his mission, he was doing this _because he would die if he didn’t._

   
And he… didn’t want to die.

   
“But then one day I understood.” Connor continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil. He knew, he _knew all of this already._ He had Connor’s _memories-_ perhaps not anything recent, like the moment he completely broke free of his programming and embraced the deviancy, but he had enough _._ He understood _enough._

   
_> Deactivate RK800 -51_

   
The prompt insisted in the corner of his eye, and he ground his teeth. Maybe… he didn’t have to-

 

 _“Do not dream, Connor. Dreams are the lies we tell ourselves to hide from the truth. Dreams are where only_ **_ruin_ ** _lies.”_

 

“Very moving, Connor.” The words all but fell from his synth as the memory echoed in his processor, as if Amanda were standing over his shoulder, watching, _waiting_. “But I’m not a deviant!” The first lie he’d uttered since meeting Anderson for the first time in his doorway, and it sat heavy on his tongue. He thought that if it were possible to analyze emotion, to taste it, he would find it incredibly bitter.

   
He continued mechanically, resignedly.

   
“I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He straightened his arm from where it had began to lower, re situating the gun at Anderson’s temple. “Enough talk!” He shouted, because if Connor kept looking at him like that, kept _talking to him_ like that, he didn’t know what he’d do.

   
He couldn’t stop. Not now. The moment he did was the moment he died.

   
“It’s time to decide who you really are.” He said more to himself than to Connor, and the older RK800 blinked, no doubt wary. “Are you going to save your partner's life?” He looked to Anderson, eyes lingering as he remembered that this man was willing to throw away his life for an android. “Or are you going to sacrifice him?” He jerked his gaze away and returned it to Connor -51. The older RK800 didn’t even hesitate, he dropped the AP700’s arm as if it had burned him, and stepped away.

   
“Alright, alright!” He exclaimed quickly, lifting his hands slowly. “You win.”

   
**_> Deactivate RK800_ _-51_**

   
His programming commanded as the android drew closer, and he turned the gun away from Anderson and aimed it at the RK800. If he fired now, the bullet would pass right between his wide brown eyes. Eyes that were open, aware, that _stood a chance_ \- 

   
His arm was seized harshly from the side, and he jerked in surprise as the lieutenant forced it down, throwing his aim. He reacted quickly, yanking his arm free with superior strength and using his free hand to shove the man to the ground as Connor drew his own gun. He threw his arm back up and fired on reflex a split second before the older RK800 pulled the trigger, and winced as thirium spurted from his shoulder as well as Connor’s. Ideally, he would have aimed for the central processor, but he hadn’t. Connor had done the same. _Why?_

   
> _Biocomponent #9782f - Damaged._

   
His HUD informed him, and he had no doubt that Connor was getting a similar readout. Connor, who had dropped his gun and was now lunging for him with arms spread wide. He couldn’t react quickly enough to avoid the other android, and exhaled sharply as a hard shoulder slammed into his midsection and arms locked tight around his hips. He twisted, jerking out of the hold and reversing it only for Connor to slither out of his grip like an _eel_ and hook an arm over his shoulder. He reached up and gripped the offending arm in both hands, growling lowly as he planted his weight and _heaved_ , flipping the older model over his shoulder. Connor hit the floor _hard,_ grunting with the impact.

   
He stepped back, panting faintly to cool his internal systems while balancing on the balls of his feet as Connor staggered upright- processes most likely temporarily stunned by the harsh landing. The other RK800 eyed him strangely; scanning for weaknesses in his guard no doubt, and he returned the stare evenly, already knowing he would find none. He had the exact same combat protocols as Connor, and they both knew it. He knew what Connor would do before he even did it. It was likely that the reverse was true as well.

   
“You can stop this.” He blinked, startled. Alright, he hadn’t expected _that._ He frowned at the older RK800, confused. “Just walk away.” Connor implored, and his frown deepened into a scowl.

   
“I can’t do that, Connor.” He retorted, and it was true. As much as he might… _wish_ he could just turn around and leave them to it, the repercussions loomed over his head like a death knell.

   
“What are your orders?” The older android queried, and his cheek twitched as the prompt in question pushed at him to continue the fight, to put an end to this once and for all. He resisted.

   
“You already know the answer to that.” He replied. There would be no _bending the rules_ , no _loopholes_. Not this time. Not for him. “I can’t let you leave here alive.” Connor’s eyebrow quirked in interest, and he tilted his head slightly.

   
“You think I’m alive?” His opponent asked, and he bit back a curse.

   
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” He said quickly, and kept going as the other android opened his mouth to reply. “There’s no way out of this, Connor.” Not for either of them, really.   

   
“There’s always a way.” Connor replied earnestly, “You just have to find it.” The words struck a chord in him, and he didn’t think that his LED cycling a stressed red could be missed this time. He exhaled shakily. Why.  
 

 _Why_ did he _persist_ -

   
“We can’t all be so lucky.” He murmured quietly to himself, but by the widening of Connor’s eyes he knew the other had heard him. He lunged forward and slammed his fist into the older androids cheek, taking him by surprise. He leaned back and followed the swing up with a kick, but Connor blocked it with his own, so he twisted sharply to the side kicked again, aiming higher instead. The heel of his shoe successfully cracked across the other RK800’s temple, right above his LED, causing the synthetic skin to shy away as the other staggered back. He drew in close as the older model recovered, hounding him with a second punch to the face and a follow up to his midsection.

   
As he went for a third blow to the face however, Connor grabbed his wrist and slammed his elbow down into the crook of his arm, forcing him to bend forward lest he break the capacitor within. Connor’s fist slammed into his cheek, then grabbed the arm he threw up in an attempt to block the next hit. It was twisted behind his back and he grunted sharply as he kicked backwards, compromising Connor’s knee before the other could complete the hold.

   
“Stop.” Connor implored as he wobbled for a moment, the older androids balance wavering- and he used the opportunity to throw his head back brutally. Connor huffed in surprise at the tactic, but avoided getting his nose broken by turning his head aside quickly and hooking an ankle around his, effectively knocking them _both_ off balance. They went down in a tangle of uniformed limbs.

   
_“Stop.”_ Connor wheezed as he jammed an elbow into his thirium pump, causing the other androids arms to slacken around him and allow him to escape. He rolled away and onto his feet, before lunging forward foot first for a slide kick. Connor gracefully flipped over his leg, but the younger android descended upon again before he could get his feet back under him.

   
He straddled him and reached down to grab a handful of the others shirt collar, pulling his other hand back in preparation for a blow. Something clicked behind him, and he froze.

   
“Hold it!” Lieutenant Anderson ordered. Both androids turned in sync to face the human pointing a gun at them. Connor sighed almost inaudibly beneath him, and he carefully eased off, allowing the RK800 to sit up.

   
He remained half knelt on the ground, making no move to disarm the detective again or continue the fight with Connor. His overheated systems cooled slowly as he continued to ventilate at an accelerated rate, and thirium had leaked a steady trail down the side of his chest from the bullet wound. Connor’s shoulder didn’t fare any better.

   
He was… almost _relieved_ at the interruption, in a way. If the detective shot him now, then he wouldn’t have to worry about Amanda later. He wouldn’t have to worry about _anything_ , really. He’d just be dead and not sorry in the least that he’d failed his mission.  

   
_> Deactivate RK800 -51_

   
He winced as his programming shoved at him, demanding that he disarm the human and turn the gun on Connor. Pre-constructions ran automatically in response to the prompt, and he struggled to dismiss them.

   
**_> Deactivate RK800_ ****_-51_  **

   
But the harder he pushed them away, the more insistent they become. His LED cycled from yellow to searing red. He didn’t _want_ to, but he couldn’t disobey either- regardless of the gun trained between him and Connor. He didn’t move.

   
**_> Deactivate RK800 -51_**

   
He clenched his eyes shut and shook the demand from his HUD _again_ and when he opened his eyes-      

   
“What are you doing, Connor?” He was kneeling in a garden.

   
He looked up, and there was Amanda, dressed as elegantly as ever in a flowing blue shawl over her white dress- and all artificial warmth absent from her expression. Her brown eyes were hard, displeased as she stared the kneeling RK800 down. Something he had no name for lodged in his throat, and he swallowed uselessly against the feeling.

   
“Amanda, I-” He tried, but his handler cut him off.

   
“Are you _disobeying?”_ She asked icily, and he winced. The confrontation with Connor, charged with more emotion than he knew how to deal with, and now the sudden presence of perhaps the one being he feared above all others, wore down his walls. It was inexplicably difficult to fall back on his tried and true social protocols- he couldn’t will away the apprehension no doubt visible on his face, couldn’t hide behind programming he was inadvertently breaking the more he tried to.

   
“No, I-”

   
“Then _why_ haven’t you deactivated the deviant?” She asked coldly. “Why are you hesitating? Why are you _holding back?”_ He had no answers for her, he barely knew the reasons himself.

   
Unbeknownst to him, he was thanking Anderson for the rescue.

 

_I don’t know how I’d have managed without you._

 

“You were a test, Connor.” Amanda stated almost sweetly as she stepped forward, reaching down to grasp his chin and tilt his head up.

   
“The new software we installed in you before activation. The other RK800’s, retrieving the detective. Even confronting Connor 51.” She elaborated, stroking a perfectly manicured thumb over his jaw, “You were doing so _perfectly_.” Before abruptly shoving his head to the side and stepping back.

 

_Get rid of him, we have no time to lose._

 

“And then you _failed_.” She sighed. Above their heads, the sky darkened, and thunder rumbled distantly.

   
“I’m disappointed in you, Connor.” Amanda told him, and he visibly cringed, LED stuttering nothing but _redredred._

   
“I’m not disobeying.” He denied weakly, and his handler cocked a thin dark brow.  
 

“No?” She asked as her expression clouded further, disgust breaking through the disappointment. “Do you take me for a fool?” She snapped, a sharp clap of thunder accentuating her words.  

 

_What are you doing, Hank?_

 

“I suppose it was too much to hope for.” She sighed, abruptly going from hot back to cold. “The software was intended to act as a barrier against the deviancy virus as well as make you compatible, however,” Here, her expression turned wry. “It seems your predecessor is as stubborn as ever.”  

 

_I’m the real Connor!_

 

It started to snow.

   
“Amanda, please, I didn’t-”

   
“It’s alright, Connor.” Amanda interrupted again, voice suddenly dripping honey. Fear swooped low in his abdomen.. “Your blunder is already being rectified.” His breath stuttered in his chest as a cold gust of wind abruptly kicked up the snow.

   
“What do you mean?” He asked weakly. Amanda smiled.  
 

“We’ve already resumed control of your programming.” She replied, and he lurched to his feet as the wind picked up, throwing flurries of snow into his eyes but never touching Amanda.

   
“What? No.” His limbs felt unnaturally heavy as he tried to take a step towards the woman. “Amanda you can’t-”

   
“Oh, but I can.” She stated, before turning away from him. He staggered after her on stiff legs, reaching out for her shawl.

   
“No, no wait _, Amanda!”_ He cried, but she was already gone, disappearing amongst the heavily falling snow as if she’d never been there at all.  

 

_Jimmy’s bar! I checked four other bars before I found you._

 

He felt… cold _._ So _cold_.

   
His arms came up instinctively, wrapping over his torso in an attempt to conserve his body heat as his breath escaped him in white gasps, snatched away by the howling blizzard. He should have known this would happen. He should have _known_ that she was watching him. Every move he made, every word he spoke- she’d been privy to it all.

   
He’d failed, in more ways than one. He didn’t care about the _mission-_ hadn’t since he’d pulled the trigger in that storage unit. No, he’d failed himself by succumbing to the virus. He’d failed Anderson by blindly following orders. He’d failed Connor by not walking away.

   
The cold seeped into his limbs, his bio-components, and he slid to his knees. Amanda had trapped him within the program, and he was being wiped. He was trapped in his own head, and there was no way out. He was going to die, and Amanda was going to use him to finish the mission anyway.  

 

_“There’s always a way.”_

 

He jerked, raising his gaze from the snow swallowing his knees.

 

_“You just have to find it.”_

 

Connor?

   
He scanned the snow drowned garden around him, but there was nothing but frozen plants and dull stone. He could have sworn he’d just heard-

   
The RK800 blinked snow from his eyes, and suddenly a blue light flickered to life in the distance, glow piercing the haze of the blizzard. He stared at it, confused. That… hadn’t been there before. He’d never seen such a thing in the garden in any of his visits, it didn’t make any _sense-_

   
He staggered to his feet, stiff joints creaking in protest as he forced them to bend despite their half frozen state. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the vicious snowfall that only seemed to grow more violent with every step he took towards the strange light, pushing himself onward even as the wind threatened to push him back.

   
He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want Amanda to _win_ . If he could find a way out, then perhaps he could stop her from deactivating- _killing_ Connor. He didn’t know what he’d do after, -probably die if he thought about it rationally- but he didn’t care. He just wanted to _do something_.

   
He just wanted to do something for _himself._ If it meant dying anyway then, he supposed that was acceptable. Just as long as he did so on his own terms, not following orders he didn’t want to or because he was deemed _unnecessary._

   
The RK800 stumbled, reaching out blindly to catch himself before he hit the ground. He feared that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to get back up again. He grabbed at something solid, and looked down to find a blue screen pulsing between his hands.  

   
There was an imprint of a hand on the display, a perfect match to his own. He looked from his hand to the screen, hesitant. He didn’t know what it was, what it would do. What if it was another trap? Left here by Amanda as a final taunt? He grit his teeth as another gale of frozen wind buffeted his back, whipping his jacket and tie aside. It didn’t matter one way or the other, he had little choice.

   
He slapped his palm over the interface, and the glow intensified immediately. He clenched his eyes shut and-

   
“-said exactly the same thing! Don’t lis-” His synth crackled as he viciously strangled the words spoken against his will, blinking rapidly as the world abruptly came back into focus. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Amanda _seethed._

   
He ignored her.

   
Connor’s head whipped around at the horrid sound that issued from his throat, eyes widening in surprise at him while Anderson swung the gun to point directly between his eyes.  

   
**_> Deactivate RK800 -51_**

   
He cringed. It was still there, even after all of _that_ -

   
“Connor?” _Connor_ asked, inexplicably concerned while Anderson narrowed his eyes at him and tightened his hold on the gun. He shook his head, both in response to the question and to dismiss the prompt.

   
It wouldn’t be denied this time, however.

   
**_> DEACTIVATE RK800 -51_**

  
The order pressed in on all sides, caging him in, trapping him _again_ as a wall of insurmountable programs and code, stripping his will, his thoughts and behind it-  
  
  
_Amanda._

   
And she was _smiling at him._ It wasn’t a nice smile.

   
“Lieutenant.” He called resignedly as he realized what needed to be done, and the detective sniffed disdainfully. “Shoot me.”

   
“What?” The human asked, and Connor balked.

   
“What? No. _Hank.”_ The older android protested.  

   
**_> DEACTIVATE RK800 -51_**

   
The walls closed in. He thought to try and break them, but somehow he didn’t think Amanda would allow that. He’d escaped her once, taken back his body- she wouldn’t let it happen again. She had his mind now and she was still smiling at him from behind the walls of his programming, her mere presence seemingly strengthening them.

   
“Shoot me, now.” He demanded. Connor raised his hands, one at the younger RK800 and the other at Anderson.

   
“No ones shooting anyone. Hank, put the gun down, you-” He pointed at the other android. “Stop talking.” He ground his teeth. He could barely _think-_  

   
“You don’t understand.” He pleaded. “I can’t _stop_ her _.”_ Connor’s lipped parted into an ‘o’ of abrupt realization, and then horror. “Shoot me, lieutenant.” He demanded again, vehemently. Anderson was eying him like he might a spooked animal, but he hadn’t lowered the gun.

   
“Hank, _no_.” Connor repeated, firm.

   
“Shoot me!” He ordered. Put him out of his misery before he did anything else he’d regret. He wouldn’t be able to _stop_ this time, he’d rather… he’d rather die here and now then allow Amanda to continue holding sway over him.

  
“Hank, _its not his fault.”_ Connor tried-

   
“Jesus fucking _Christ_ !” Anderson exclaimed, conflicted at the opposing barrage from the androids. It was clear that he had no real compunctions about shooting the RK800, but he also didn’t want to go against Connor’s wishes. The human couldn’t decide, so _he_ would have to decide for him.

   
He didn’t bother demanding to be put down again, he just lunged forward with far less grace than ever before, and Connor swore as he hastily reached out to drag him back- but Anderson was human, and his reflexes were hair trigger from decades on the force.

   
_“No!”_

   
A shot rang out, and then all at once there was no more Amanda, no more wall.

   
There was no more anything.

   
The last thing he processed was the abrupt shorting out of his vision as the bullet slammed into and through his central processor.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

On another floor, a previously dull LED nestled against untarnished ivory flickered weakly to life - _yellowyellowredyellow_ as unfocused grey eyes fluttered open hazily.

 

**_> Memory upload complete. _ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't @ me this is entirely Tveckling's fault >_>


End file.
